


Young God

by n7shoujo



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Party Times, Romantic Friendship, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7shoujo/pseuds/n7shoujo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of “you thought I was your friend and pulled me up on the table to dance with you now you’re shirtless and grinding on me” au, what happens after  + moments of daily life and an awkward!Reader who slowly makes a friendship-turned-romance with smirking sinnamon roll Newt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> here i am and writing a mazerunner fanfic i haven't read the books forgive me if characterisation is wonk i would like tips on how to write newt interactions but other than that this is a fic about hormonal young adults and there'll be smut eventually but also lots of awkward moments probably maybe who knos
> 
> thank you for reading! Newt / Reader at the ready here u go
> 
> who even knows what college dorms actually look like so please go along with whatever i conjure in my mind about them

“you thought I was your friend and pulled me up on the table to dance with you now you’re shirtless and grinding on me” au 

You barely hear Brenda yell something about the kitchen and assume that’s where she wants you to put her textbook, amidst the piles of chips and beer bottles and all. Not sure why the kitchen due to the hazards waiting to happen but maybe there are things happening in her bedroom that you’d rather not know about. Seeing as you knew pretty much no one coming into this place and your friend seemed to know every second person, you guess it isn’t surprising to find out that her party was on this scale of large.

The music is blaring, and at another time you’d probably feel inclined to shake your booty to it and all that jazz but for now you just want to get home after a long day. Settling down with that cute romance book you’ve been meaning to read and a cup of green tea sounds perfect. Tugging your jacket tighter to your body, you pull the hood over your head and zip it up to your neck, feeling as if you’re trying lamely to procure some kind of safety from the dancing bodies and drunken chatter around you. There’s a sickly sweet smell about the air and pizza essence that you hope doesn’t stick as you make your way to the front door.

Surveying the people around you makes you self-conscious what with their on-point makeup and attractive clothes, but you reason to yourself- (an obnoxious hoot of “MINHO CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!” splits across your thoughts-- is that the asian guy from your society and culture lectures? He criticised your pronunciation one time and you’re a bit intimidated by him) -you reason to yourself, eyes furrowed, determined to get out already, that it doesn’t matter anyway-

There’s some kind of name you don’t know, called out in your direction - “-why don’t you play with me a little love?” SOMEONE’S GRABBING ONTO THE BACK OF YOUR JACKET AND you turn, stumble, gasping hands splaying out catch yourself a table quick-

A flush of heat buries itself in your cheeks. 

“U-Um, you have the wrong person-”

But you just see a flash of blond. It’s funny because you aren’t entirely sure what happens in that moment, but you know, god, you know that he was shirtless and that you actually put your hands on chest to stabilise yourself but then he ended up pulling both of you two closer until hips met and he started rocking in time with music you couldn't really focus on and his breath tickled your neck and in your ears was a pleased hum, and his hands -- his hands on your waist, your hands hesitant and lightly grazing his skin (a delicious thrill)--

...but then you realise you’re on a TABLE and people are WHISTLING and then everythingcomesrushingback-

Somehow you fall off the table and end up knocking quite a few bottles of beer over, and they crack loudly against the tile floor -- luckily they don’t break, but they do make quite a bit of a spill that has your tights soaking the pungent drink up. There goes your wish of driving home without stinking up your car.

The blond that was grinding against you, you realise, has simply fallen to his knees on the coffee table and blinks at you. With your hood down now, even in his drunk state he can see that no you’re probably not the girl he was intending for you to be, in fact, you are [Y/N], and he may not know your name, granted you don’t know his, but embarrassment bursts in your chest and maybe it’s so strong that it blocks out everything else as you get the hell away Brenda's-- parents? Guardian's? -- house. You definitely don’t hear Minho’s raucous laughter or Newt’s confused “shuck” or Thomas saying something about a hit and a miss.

At your own room, not very far away at all, as it's only separated by the kitchen you were just in, you rub off the stickiness on your butt from the spilled beer and try to rub off the feel of that mystery blond’s hands on your hips and that tingling on your skin and end up groaning loudly at how caught up you were for those minutes you let yourself relax and you-- but god, he was cute AND those muscles, lean-- you wouldn’t mind seeing him shirtless again-

Your cat meows at you.

Furiously you wipe yourself off and head into your room, bare with the exception of a towel wrapped around your frame. After a short cautious peek, you head into the kitchen connecting your room to your neighbour’s and as you flick on the kettle you shake every negative thought out of your head and say to yourself out loud for reassurance, “I won’t see him again anyway.”

You actually believe it.

(Too bad Brenda has other plans.)


	2. new perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and newt meet but you're confused and there's probably cereal in your hair but newt doesn't say anything about it

Sometimes things just don’t go the way you want them to and at 10:02AM in the communal kitchen, you’re reaching for a cereal box that makes you grieve about your height, or rather, the lack thereof.

Sometimes things really just don’t go the way you want them to, and that cereal box had somehow hooked a loose-lidded container of corn flakes and as it falls from the heavens and cornflakes scatter across the black-white tiles and gets trapped in your haphazard hair, you feel it in your soul - that certain low-key screaming that laments over the mistakes you’ve made in the past and are sure to make in the future.

Sometimes, things are kind of crappy.

You have no idea a pair of brown eyes are watching you from the doorway. The first thing Newt thinks, as he enters the kitchen just as the bits and pieces rain upon your head, is that you’re a ‘bloody clumsy mess’. The second thing he notices is the way you’re dressed, in a form-fitting singlet and shorts and definitely does not mind allowing his eyes to roam for a moment, on the bare back of your thighs and the curves of your body-- it’s not like he hasn’t done it before but he’s sort of accepted the fact that you don’t seem to notice him very much, despite being in the same culture class. As you kneel down, muttering to yourself and moving to pick up the cornflakes one by one, he walks in slowly and meanders to the kitchen sink where a tea towel lay.

“This might be a little quicker.” His voice ends up startling you and your hands shake as you give a little jump and blink owlishly up at the new entrance.

The third thing Newt notices is the smile that spreads across your face, and he thinks only very briefly, that the world would certainly be filled with pleasant sights if everyone could look nearly as sweet as you when they smile. The thought scampers away quickly as your smile disappears and your whole demeanour changes. He tries to avoid thinking about the brief poetic moment he had in light of your smile, tries to not feel so unsure as to why he thought it.

Then, for you, upon realising who exactly this person was, your awkward side kicked in 10x over and it’s bad enough as it is in normal situations especially to do with guys you find attractive, so in this situation you can guess how icky this’ll become. “Um,” the blond says, and then you realise that you had said nothing and had simply begun placing the cornflakes mistakenly back into the container from which they came. “Y’think it might be better to put a sign up or should this be our little secret?”

With a start, you realise that you are in fact, a mess. Why did you have to put them back into the container? Maybe he’s secretly disgusted at you now and isn’t showing it. Doesn’t matter right now though, the silence has gone for too long, you just need to say something--

“I-I’m not sure if I can trust you so a sign would be better...”

NO. THAT WASN’T REALLY WHAT YOU WANTED TO SAY (in the moments you answered you were thinking about being a good citizen, and now after you’ve said it, you lament about how you could’ve played a more witty card by rephrasing what you just said into something like a smooth “’dunno, would I be able to trust you with a-“ ok maybe not, you can’t imagine yourself pulling any such line off). Newt’s brows raise momentarily (you panic, is that a good sign? A bad sign?) before his lips set into a sort of frown, and since you often like to look at him in the classes you have together (you don’t take eye candy for granted), you’re not sure if this is a real frown or just his normal thinking face.

Actually, he’s quite amused at your answer, because on one hand it could be taken as a sassy call on your part but he’s pretty sure you meant it as honestly as possible, and that’s what is so laughable. Despite this, you can’t read his amusement at all.

He shrugs soon after a small silence, and you’re not sure what to make of his next words, “Your mess, not mine.”

Then--- you get sort of panicky, feeling as if somehow maybe you’ve offended him and then try to reclaim whatever fun-feeling attitude you could’ve presented instead of that weird, blunt remark previously, and say, “Except since you’re helping me you’re pretty much my partner in crime?”

Literally what the fuck is happening and what message are you trying to send to this guy. Luckily for you, he provides a quick recovery.

“Well then… as your partner…” you swear he pauses just to let the word sink in, like he’s teasing you, “I say we better keep this under wraps, shouldn’t we?” And he stands up, the container full of the fallen flakes in his hand, with his opposite hand outstretched towards you. You just feel like you want to make constipated noises into a pillow, but you take his hand anyway and try not to think of the moment you met him. He doesn’t seem to remember.

“Newt,” he introduces himself as, and your eyes rise to meet his and then you look away, because god you’re in your pyjamas and this is THAT dude. His eyes are warm though, and that’s something so cool in your opinion (at this current moment, you’re not sure how else to explain what you think). “[Y/N]... and… sorry about the cornflakes…”

As he puts away the container, he answers and you can’t see his face when he responds, “Yeah I was going to have some, so it’s quite a shame.”

“If it makes you feel better I’m probably going to have to opt for toast,” you say meekly, though it sucks because there’s no jam or any spreads and you prefer cereal better. Actually, you’re not sure if anyone’s touched that bag of bread near the microwave in ages. How worrying. The container pops back into the top shelf and unfortunately you take the time to admire his tall lanky frame. He turns around then, and afraid you’ll be caught you immediately lower your gaze to the floor. “Or,” he hums, a soft sound that doesn’t intrude at all, and you look back up, to see him offering you a small smile, “since this kitchen’s out of everything, you should go ahead and treat both of us to breakfast at a cafe?”

You squint at him for a moment, “You’re… you’re a bit sly…”

And he laughs. It’s short, but like a frugal taste of something you want more of.

And you think, dang, he’s cute.

-

A lot of things rung warning bells in your conversation with Newt.

For one, why was he in your communal kitchen when your roommate on the other side was a girl, e.g Brenda? This was a mixed dorm, yeah, but random guys don’t usually just show up in a kitchen meant for the two girls living beside it.

Secondly, you’re not sure if it’s true that he doesn’t recall what happened the night at Brenda’s party or if he’s just not acknowledging it and trying to make amends by becoming your friend, which is why he went to that whole thing of suggesting the both of you go have breakfast together. You have never actually done this with a guy before – or at least, one that you didn’t know very well, so you feel both overwhelmed and nervous.

Thirdly, you feel bad about the cornflakes. Hopefully no one was actually saw you apart from Newt, else they might spread the word that you’re horribly dirty and an evil person for putting spoiled food back into its respective container that others would eat out of.

Fourthly, you’re meeting Newt at 11am outside your room and he’s a stranger and you don’t know why you’re treating him to breakfast, really, you could’ve politely declined, but no – you think, you’re maybe too polite to decline, so, here you are.

Finally, pets aren’t technically allowed in dorms. You crouch and poke at Tubbs, who swipes back with angsty hisses. Then, you sigh, and stand to gather some fresh shorts and whatever cute top you can find.

Why are you such a risk taker?


	3. that green gentleman (things have changed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> somehow this has also turned into a cafe!AU, aren't you glad??? also newt's smooth af

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love breakfast and i hope that this new year of 2016 everyone enjoys the things that they love as well

It started off in a lecture one day, with you handing out worksheets for the professor; there were loads to be given out and apparently she’d asked you for help seeing as you were in the front row.

Newt hadn’t really paid you much attention at first, but bored as he was he found little things worthwhile watching while class began, and as such, one of those things was you and your interactions with people as you handed out the worksheets. He noticed the hesitance in your actions as you tried to hand it out to people who were too busy talking with their friends or engaged with their phones, and the awkward little smile you wore as people took the sheet from you with muttered ‘thank you’s-- he wasn’t being creepy, he was just... people-watching. That's what people do when they're bored, anyway.

And then when you reached him, he was startled out of a little reverie, and up close with you his eyes might’ve lingered a bit too long on your face when he said “thank you very much” and you looked at him- then with your eyes bright you answered all upbeat, “no problem at all!”

When you had gone, Minho snickered, “’thank you very much’-- proper gentleman aye?”

And the blond had rolled his eyes, an offhand ‘slim it’ falling from his mouth yet ultimately failing to ignore the spark of interest that made his eyes follow your back as you walked away.

\- 

Brenda’s side of the story would be that she was lounging across two seats waiting for you to finish up handing the sheets to people when she made somewhat-awkward-somewhat-:^) eye contact with a certain male a few rows behind.

The stare lasted a delicious split-second for her but for Newt it went on for way too long. The lanky guy had stiffened and she could’ve sworn by the ‘oh shit’ look on his face that in that moment, any wishful thinking he’d been making about her perhaps not having seen his staring-after-[Y/N] shenanigans crumbled when her mouth split into a wide shit-eating grin. Newt shifted uncomfortably in his seat because nothing good could come out of Brenda of all people holding this against him.

The short-haired 21-year-old grinned and it was as if you could feel it physically feel her enjoyment manifest beside you in waves, prompting you to raise a brow and ask her if everything was alright.

She leaned over and in an intimate whisper, cackled softly, “someone has the hots for you.”

You only raised a brow, “right, someone other than you?”

And she’d replied: “Are you kidding? You’re an adorable mess!”

Your lips had curled in amusement and you shook your head with a light “gee, thanks” but in her mind Brenda offhandedly thought, someone like you would be good for Newt.  
-

“So…” he begins after you’ve fallen in step with him, “you’re a cereal person then?”

You look at Newt, admiring his choice of a button-up white-sleeved shirt for a moment. You try not to think about the other day. What even was that? Maybe he really was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing. Then, you turn your gaze forward, “If by that you mean I like cheap, easy and delicious breakfasts, then sure.” Maybe you’re not expressing it that outwardly but you’re grateful he’s making conversation. Now, you have to follow up. “I don’t like milk though,” you admit.

“What kind of person eats their cereal without milk?”

“The kind that eats it with yoghurt, I guess.”

Newt makes a thoughtful noise. “That sounds…” 

You wait in anticipation for the end of the sentence.

“Simple.”

“...yeah, well,” you huff, “sometimes you have to appreciate the simple things in life.”

He looks at you, really looks at you. You think you’ve sparked something in him with you philosophical approach, but then, “I guess that explains why I’m having breakfast with you.”

Silence. You’ve paused in mid-step.

“Did you ju-- did you…”

Newt looks at you with a smirk on his face. “Did you just imply that I’m basic?”

“Basic?” comes his echo, a grin splayed on his face. 

“As in unsophisticated, slang for---”

“[Y/N], I know what basic means.”

You stare at him. You start walking ahead. “Okay, that’s it, hope you brought your wallet with you because I’m not paying. I don’t feel bad for the cornflakes anymore.”

“S’fine, cornflakes are a bit basic, after all.”

You don’t answer. It surprises Newt that this worries him how it does, even if it’s just a little nagging at the back of his mind that maybe he actually offended you, but he doesn’t have time to think it over when he hears the roar of a bus deafeningly loud, sees you step out onto the road and he reaches out quickly, panic set in-- you feel a strong grip enclose your arm, a quick tug backwards has your feet displaced, and you stumble.

Silence. People look for a moment, then continue on with their lives. The bus has left.

“...um… ok… maybe I do owe you breakfast…”

Newt snorts, but his grip on your arm hasn’t loosened, and when you gather yourself from having fallen into Newt, you notice how, while he lets go, (his fingers trailed lightly down your arm before he pulled away-- did your breath really hitch or are you just being weird?) he takes a few steps closer to you.

“Bloody right you are.”

You actually grin at this. Somehow you’re feeling really giddy. Maybe due to the adrenaline rush from the near bus crash. “Thank you heaps, actually. What a day.”

Tips of his mouth turned upwards, he tries not to think about how that was a bit too close for comfort. “What a day.”

After the two of you cross the road, Newt purposely takes the side where cars are zooming past. You notice this and feel like you need to acknowledge it… so you do. “Thank you,” you say again, looking up at him. He blinks, like he’s confused at first, before his face lights up in some way you can’t pinpoint, like maybe he’s not confused, but pleasantly surprised. And he is. He feels like he walks just a little lighter after you’ve noticed, after he gives an indistinct murmur saying something like “no problem”. The distance between your shoulders, while upset by your mediocre height and Newt’s tallness, strangely enough, makes you smile a bit. You keep looking forward though. Somehow you don’t feel as disturbed as you probably should be after that bus experience, nor in the presence of this new… (friend? acquaintance? potential love interest?) you’ve made.

Then, he grabs your hand.

You look at him curiously then. He points towards a nearby cafe. You’ve never noticed how pretty the surroundings were in your university vicinity until now. To the right of the cafe is a quaint park, a bench and small playground placed leftwards on top of a medium expanse of grass and trees beginning to take on fiery colours in the sunlight. To the left of the cafe is an alley leading to the back of the cafe you suppose, and then a metal fence that separates the cafe from a rock ledge dropping down to a river. The two of you have just passed by a bridge overlooking the river, and are now standing in front of the glass cafe doors.

“Interested?”

“Um,” you’re distracted momentarily by the feel of his hand holding yours, “sure.” Not like you had any idea where you were going to eat breakfast anyway. 

When you enter the cafe, your hands are apart. 

Surprise surprise, you see an unexpected amount of familiar faces in the cafe. “Brenda?” you mutter to yourself, wondering if you really did just see the brunette disappear into the kitchen, and Newt glances over at Minho, behind the counter. The Asian crosses his arms smugly at their entrance, smiling an odd smile and looking as if he’s ready to explode with what Newt expects to be unwanted commentary. 

“You’ve got to stop coming here you know, Frypan’s gonna go broke.” A voice suddenly cuts in. A brown-haired guy settles just by Newt, wiping his hands on the black apron tied to his person. He’s obviously fit -- s’like all of Newt’s friends seem to be really fit and you can admit they’re pretty attractive -- and despite his words, his demeanour is welcoming, turned so that his body faces the both of you. Newt rolls his eyes, grinning. “Jealous, Tommy? Besides, I know you’d miss me if I stopped.”

“Ah yes,” ‘Tommy’ responds, cracking a wide grin in return, “The secret is out-- I couldn’t live without you, Newt.”

Their banter makes you smile a bit, infected by the feel-good atmosphere in general. The two just stand there, all happy at each other, before Newt’s friend turns to you with an interesting look in his eyes. Newt steps in to say, “[Y/N], meet Thomas.” And Thomas extends his hand to you, and you shake it with a smile and say a small “Hello”. 

“So,” he begins, with an interesting smile to match, “I guess I’ll start using-”

Newt jabs him. Thomas clutches his side indignantly. 

The two get over it in a jiffy and Thomas gains his composure. “Ok, ok, I get it… good luck with Minho though…” He leans over and whispers something in Newt’s ear. Newt stiffens and BLUSHES. Not only are you somewhat suspicious but somewhere inside of you, you think the two could actually be a really hot couple. The thought goes away as quickly as it came.

“Well, anyway,” Thomas hums, stepping backwards. “I’ll tell Frypan you’re here. Hey [Y/N], what d’you feel like for breakfast? I recommend the muesli combo, Frypan’s been all over the seasonal autumn fruit lately so he’ll chuck in some good ones for you.”

“Oh that--” for some reason you feel really humbled in the presence of such friendliness, and you hope it’s expressed in the huge smile across your face, “That would be really nice!! Thank you so much!”

Thomas eyes you for a bit, and then you blink and take out your wallet, “Do I pay up front or-?”

“Oh, nah, it’s on the house.” When Thomas smiles at you, you feel calmer, at peace, no matter how weird that is. Smiles are just nice though. You feel like you could get along well with this guy. Without giving you time to respond, Thomas heads back to where Minho is talking to-- it is Brenda! She doesn’t seem to have noticed you though.

“Hey, let’s sit.” Newt murmurs close to you, before chucking a glance after the brunet, as if he trying to convey some message to his friend’s back. You have no idea what’s happening.

Newt and you head towards a window seat, somewhat far from the counter and maybe that’s a good thing seeing as his friends seem to have something going on, like some kind of fun secret that Newt’s constantly the one made fun of, and therefore the source of the ‘fun’. Only after you’re seated does the fact that food is on the house settle into your mind, and you shift suddenly in your seat that has Newt looking at you amusedly. You stare determinedly at him. He finds that he doesn’t mind your gaze at all, in fact he likes that your attention is on him, feeling as if Thomas took up a bit much of it earlier. “‘It’s on the house’?” you quote, brows furrowed.

Newt leans forward slightly, “You didn’t think I’d actually make you pay, did you?”

“Well-” you begin, and Newt stops you. “Rhetorical question, greenie.”

You tilt your head, “Greenie?”

He gestures to your clothes. “Cute outfit by the way.”

You wear khaki shorts and a pastel green singlet, and flush lightly. Newt looks like he’s proud of himself and out of habit when you’re embarrassed, you slip a lock of hair behind your ear. Shortly after, you try to make yourself more comfortable in your seat. Inside the cafe, it’s warmly lit with lantern-shaped lights hung across the wall, linked together with black wire that blends nicely against dark-caramel painted wood panels. The din of conversation from other customers emphasizes nicely the relaxing air, and from outside seeps in the glow of the morning sun.

“So, what kind of person are you?” you ask softly after a while of taking in your surroundings, which Newt has granted you silence during. You mean to hint towards what kind of breakfasts he eats.

He looks caught off guard with that question, and that’s fine and all, but something slips out of your mouth before you can think about what you’ve said. “I mean, are you always shirtless at parties?”


	4. i wanna be free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a match-making attempt gone right??? this is exciting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this is a good update my dear cutie readers?!?! thank you for reading and enjoy!!! sooner or later we're gonna go into depth about how newt got his limp in this alternate universe and it's not going to be ok man not at all
> 
> but i'm a sucker for fluff so
> 
> you're lucky
> 
> i think

It’s not surprising how Newt shifts uncomfortably in his seat after that. You try to resist the urge to cover your face in your hands, face-plant the table—anything really, because wow, just where is your filter?

“That—“ Newt pauses, like something has caught in his throat, “…was an exception…”

Oddly enough though, you feel intent on making him answer you, despite any discomfort on his part. As you wait patiently for his answer, and he realises you’re waiting for more of an explanation, the two of you fail to notice Brenda and Minho at the counter smirking together like sinful cats at a fishbowl. 

How can Newt tell you that he was equally as sober as you during that time (ok, granted he had a few small drinks, but he definitely wasn’t drunk) and that while he could’ve refused the dare Minho propositioned the moment they caught sight of you, he didn’t because… maybe because there’s something, some kind of interest, some kind of hope, a normalcy of sorts-- in doing risky things like this. Stupid, but risky, but look where he is now, sitting with you here on somewhat his own accord? How can he tell you--

...well, actually. Truth is, it shouldn’t be that hard. He can just tell you… right? Here goes nothing.

“It, uh, it was a dare. I was--- by Minho-” and he’s stuttering lamely. Why are things never easy.

At the same time, he’s very conscious of the shift in expression you have, the unsure glance to the side, like he knows what you’re thinking at the very moment -- wondering about what he might be thinking, about his intentions for this little breakfast shenanigan, and to halt whatever conclusions you might be jumping to, he quickly tries to regain his composure and begins that by assuring you, “[Y/N]-” but then he realises he’s not sure what to say.

You’re actually thinking about why Brenda would invite you on that certain day to give a textbook back. You live right next to her, and she knows you don’t really like crowds of strangers. Conclusion is, she was probably part of that whole thing.

“So…” you breathe out (luckily for him, else there’d be awkward silence he wouldn’t know how to salvage), not sure what to think, really. “Can I just-- is this a, some sort of pity kind of-- y’know? Because there’s really no need to feel guilty or anything, I mean, I fell off the table because of me-- I mean...”

And immediately Newt sits straighter, he wants to tell you, there is no ‘pity’ in this, this isn’t something he’s doing just out of some weird obligation and this is getting a bit too complicated for his liking, but he guesses, the planning that Brenda and Minho put to this, TOGETHER, as he found out that day at the party, wasn’t to his liking at all. Them, and Thomas after that, (thank the heavens Gally wasn’t present) weren’t very sympathetic to his situation after the scene that was made. “[Y/N],” he says, in a more firm voice this time, and he slowly reaches across the table, and asks you, fingers resting an inch away from yours, “Can I…” and all of a sudden you find it hard to look away, from the seriousness he has on his features, like you have to pay attention or you might miss something important.

You think you nod, or mumble out an “it’s ok” and he takes your hand in his, the one that’d been fiddling with a napkin, and says, “In no way does this have anything to do with obligation-- I genuinely want to know you better and it was a stupid dare that I--” ‘wouldn’t have done if it were any other person’ but should he really say that? What kind of implications would that have; were they implications he wanted? “...that I don’t regret, even if Minho was dumb and by extension I was bloody dumb for taking it on, so, I owe you an apology.”

Long story short, kids, don’t take up dares by friends involving people you’re interested in. Moreover, people that your friends know you’re interested in. Too risky.

“Oh,” you say. You bite your lip, trying to hide the shy smile threatening to burst, but you feel like whatever you feel is already expressed in the heat of your cheeks if Newt notices (and let me tell you he has, he’s not sure if it’s good or not but he thinks you look really, god, really cute when you’re blushing, god, he’s so attracted to you, shit). And then you tilt your head with a sheepish grin, “well, thank you for the apology then…”

And on second thought, you add, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Newt says, and the way he smiles, you think something might be wrong with you because since when are you so quickly affected by near strangers? 

“Heeeere you guys go, porridge for Newt and the special for... [Y/N], was it? The name’s Frypan.”

Frypan watches as the two of you pull your hand away, back to your respective laps. He finds the action very laughable but holds back the laugh in his throat out of the goodness in his heart.

“N-nice to meet you,” you beam at the entrance, sitting straighter now, even with your cheeks pink as they are. “And thank you very much!” 

Frypan returns the grin and sets down two bowls, “Enjoy!” 

And with the same amount of vigour you say, “I know I will!”

And you grin at each other, and Frypan releases a loud laugh. “I like you already!”

And leaves.

You turn to Newt with the same grin on your face. “He seems nice.”

And Newt, feeling amused and pleased and slightly bewildered at the exchange, replies, “That he is… and you’re just a ball of sunshine, aren’t you?” 

You ponder this for a moment, before grinning again. “What, do I light up your life already?” you joke. Newt laughs. You give yourself brownie points for being smooth. And Newt thinks to himself that he wouldn’t mind that prospect at all.

Funnily enough but your joke manages to smooth over the left over awkwardness from the earlier conversation. You take in Newt’s breakfast choice and comment, “porridge huh?”

He shakes his head. “Oatmeal’s a better word.”

Your grin widens, “‘Porridge’ is too basic a word, huh?”

Newt smirks, “Good, you’re catching on.”

You let out a cute little laugh at this, and Newt’s happy to be subject to the sight of it.

“Is Frypan’s real name… Frypan?” You ask soon-ish after taking a few bites of the muesli and releasing a soft, delighted sigh (which Newt notices, and makes a note in the back of his mind to do something good for Frypan). And of course Newt answers, that his name is “Siggy” but somewhere along the line they began calling him Frypan and it stuck, and when you ask how many times Newt’s been here, for him to get special treatment and things for free, of course he tells you about how long he’s known all of them, how some of them are shanks but good shanks, and all of them are good, and that they’re family to him. And then you ask him about his family, and he mentions a sister who’s still in high school, who he’s proud of but he doesn’t tell her enough (of course he doesn’t outright say this but you can tell that they’re close). Then he asks about you, and you say you’re an only child, but Brenda could be your older sister. He asks how you met her and you say you don’t know because high school is a blur and somehow the two of you became friends. You tell him about the things you do and he learns that you like poetry, that you’re studying creative writing on the side but also some language you didn’t specify, you tell him how it’s interesting and cool how all of you guys are in the same society and culture class. Newt mentions philosophy and goes into how he thinks there are two sides of philosophy - the one used to help people and the one that helps capitalism run its course. And then breakfast is over, and you both have classes to go to, but not the same ones.

The two of you, mostly you, thank Frypan profusely (“Are you sure-” “As long as you enjoyed it, [Y/N].”) and you notice that Brenda is gone again (maybe she’s in the back of the cafe with Thomas but you really wouldn’t know), but you’ll probably be meeting up with her soon. You agree with Newt’s comment that Minho can be a ‘bloody creep’ but apparently ‘he means well’ when he’s looking at you intently, like he knows something you don’t. Newt shoots a look at Minho, one that you miss as you’re talking to Frypan about breakfast choices, and Minho chucks a big grin back at him (“Bye shuck.” “See ya, klunkhead.”).

A morning for you at the university has never gone so wonderfully refreshing before, and you clutch your phone in your hand happily with the screen still on alert, showing Newt’s contact details, as he walks you to your room. The two of you part ways with little grins.

-

It’s 7AM. Tubbs is at your heel and you’ve cut a banana into a bowl of ready made cereal. This is an act you’ve become used to, granted you don’t do it that often, but Brenda has learnt to keep her door unlocked for you when it does (or maybe she keeps it unlocked all the time, and that concerns you). Her room is surprisingly neat, the coffee table has a few packet of chips lying on it, tied up with rubber bands, and two drained glasses pushed to the side. A pack of cards lie in the middle. Closing the door after you make sure Tubbs has entered with you, you give the room a scan. There’s no one unexpected here... unless they’re in the bedroom with Brenda. You pass by her study, books piled high around slim, silver laptop, no sentimental wall of pictures hanging above the desk like you’re own preferred workspace, and make your way to her bedroom door, rapping a few times before entering.

Brenda is full-on face down, sleeping, and you look at her sleeping form amusedly before setting down the cereal on her bedside table. On the table there’s three pictures framed in wood, and funny, because while you don’t keep pictures by your side you keep them hung up on walls for the world to see but she prefers a little more privacy. Picture 1 consists of her brother and her, but they’re both so young you wonder if Brenda herself even remembers when the picture was taken. Then there’s one of Brenda and her guardian Jorge, together contentedly on what looks like a boat - you’ve deduced that it was probably one of the fishing trips she went on and used to tell you about. The last one is of you and her, and it warms your heart every time you take a second to look at it and really appreciate-

“So what did you learn?”

Brenda lifts her head proudly, placing her arms beneath her chin while looking at you, grin splitting her lips and dark brown eyes shining.

“I learnt,” you humour her, picking up the bowl and placing it next to her head, “that you probably had something to do with us meeting. At your party.”

She has the audacity to snicker and you level her with a glare. She shrugs it off easily and lifts herself up, juggling the cereal in one hand as she settles into a comfortable sitting position. “I saw you two talking. Looks like you get along.”

You realise you don’t need to think about your answer. “Yeah, we do.”

“Do you get along or do you GET along?”

“Am I supposed to understand the difference between those two?”

“Yeah, you’re the english whiz, after all. You know what I mean, just answer it.”

Tubbs is curled up next to Brenda and she pets his head using her free hand. You find the image of it precious, like it’s nice to see Brenda being gentle when she’s usually more rough around the edges. “We, um,” Brenda’s hand stops momentarily, then starts again. She’s listening intently and you feel weird admitting it but you-- “we had a good chat--... I like… talking with him.” Brenda catches on quickly.

“You like him!” Brenda exclaims, turning around abruptly and jolting the bed as a result, shocking Tubbs out of his relaxed state. The poor cat’s tail wags frantically as he struggles to regain his balance. 

You smile innocently at Brenda and she scoffs in a weird delightedness. “[Y/N], c’mon, you need to let yourself loose a little more. It’s university, time to get out there.” You sigh, then, and decide to lay back, head on top of Brenda’s blanketed legs. “I mean, you do get along with him right? I think I also saw you two look a bit like you were constipated for a moment at the cafe?”

“Yeah, that was probably when he admitted the thing at the party was a dare. But you’d know that wouldn’t you?” Subtext: ‘I blame you for that.’

Brenda hums, taking her first bite of cereal. It’s probably soggy by now.

“Well… Minho and I thought it was time…”

You roll over to your side and narrow your eyes at her. She stares at you while she’s eating. It’s creepy, but you remain strong. “Time?”

She shrugs. She decides not to tell you about the similarity between Newt and yourself, how while you’ve been caught up in work and focusing on high school and thinking that you didn’t have much time for relationships, Newt’s been… preoccupied… with other things. But she also wants to see the differences between you two play out. She thinks that’s what would matter the most.

That’s when she whips out her phone. You immediately scramble up and towards her, “Brenda, what are you--”

She holds her cereal out to your outstretched hand, as if a warning. You falter, not wanting anything to spill, like the considerate friend you are.

From: Brenda  
To: Minho  
IT LOOKS LIKE A SUCCESS?! :P

From: Minho  
To: Brenda  
SAME HERE! XD but can you not message me at this time

From: Brenda  
To: Minho  
SATURDAY? deal with it

From: Minho  
To: Brenda  
SATURDAY. :/

“Meet me on Saturday, my room, ‘kay?” She says suddenly, ignoring all your attempts to distract her texting with a practiced grace. You look at her skeptically, “...this isn’t going to be another party is it?”

She shakes her head, “No, I know you don’t feel comfortable at those so it’s going to be a little group instead. You’re going to meet the squad.”

“You mean… like Newt’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

You let yourself fall back onto Brenda’s legs and Brenda puts her phone away. “Also, since when did you work at that cafe?”

Brenda ponders this for a moment. Digs through the banana to find more cereal beneath. No luck. “I thought I told you this? Start of uni.”

That was almost a year ago. You purse your lips.

“Sorry, can’t keep track of all those jobs you keep.”

And she laughs. “For good reason, at least.”

And then your brows soften and you remind yourself of a fact you tend to forget; people are galaxies. Never underestimate it.

“Yeah,” you say.

After a while, as you lay there while she eats, she says, “Isn’t he cute though?”

You lie there, silent. You bite your lip. “He… he asked for my consent before holding my hand when we were talking… and that was… cute....”

Holy SHIT Brenda can tell that you’re already infatuated with him (and this is somewhat new to her, mind you) and holy SHIT Newt can be a fucking smooth mofo when he wants to be.

“And he-- he has a really nice smile, if that counts for anything,” you say, smiling lightly.

“How about those lean muscles? I saw you at the party you know, you looked like you were enjoying yourself if you know what I mean-”

“Brenda, shut up. You know how that ended up.” You frown at her, trying to stay at least a bit upset and not think about how attractive Newt is.

“Yeah, for sure, I know how it’ll end up.” She WINKS at you. “You wouldn’t mind doing it again, right?”

Silence.

“Haha, holy shit.”


	5. c'mon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mario kart, among other things (sexual tension)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turn back if you're an avid hater of trenda

It was at the start of university when she was hired at that cute lil’ cafe down a few blocks and when she began working there, it was apparent to her that something was off. ‘Hired’, she uses lightly, because she technically only got in thanks to the recommendations of her friends to the owner, some dude whose name starts with ‘A’ but he doesn’t show up that much because he’s some fancy businessman and the cafe’s only part of a family business or something. Frypan’s the little brother, if she can remember correctly. So yeah, good thing she knew Thomas and Minho already, but where was the last of the trio, right? It was one of those feelings that bubbled up whenever you thought about how empty the place seemed, or rather how empty the two made it seem, and when she asked where Newt fit in into all of this, they gave small smiles and never really answered, and until the day she found out what was happening at the time she’d always remained a little bothered by it all. One of her founding memories of the place, you could say.

And Brenda likes him, y’know?

He’s okay.

That’s why she was okay with him staying at her dorm the other day, on the day of that party, because Minho had somewhat of a habit of being kinky as fuck and so his shared dorm room with the blond was occupied and Newt doesn’t feel like dealing with that stuff sometimes. She’s always had a bit of a weird friendship with Newt - one you have because you’re mutual friends with a friend but the distance tends to stay. But at the same time, she thinks maybe it’s there because they’re a bit too similar. At least, maybe their parents are a bit too similar, and they understand each other on that level.

She’s not sure if she’s making sense.

She’s not sure why she’s put herself in this mood, because she’s currently an obstacle in everyone’s way as they try to get some good seats for the lecture. But what she feels right now is akin to listening to a sad one-sided love song. An empty fullness in country genre strums, to the beat of 4/4. But it’s not a love song. It’s just one-sided. It’s a weird sadness but one you know that’ll go away as long as you stop listening.

The point is, as she’s watching you light up like you’ve just been introduced to a feeling you’ll treasure forever (and knowing you, you tend to acknowledge these type of small things), when you meet Newt’s eyes and (she notices he initiates the first smile) you wave, and he waves, and the smile you have on your face--

Y’know, sometimes she’s worried about you too.

She’s worried about too many goddamn things as it is already, for goodness sake. For example, why the hell are you keeping a cat? You can barely afford food as it is. And to make it worse, it’s a fat cat with a deep dark abyss of a stomach. God. Fuckin’ Tubbs. Stupid name as well.

But she watches you again, and this is what leads her to say: “You two are weird.” ‘Cause you two should just bang already and get over with it. Being forward would be the best thing in situations like this, after all, right? Everyone would be happy.

She sees you frown at her, and this automatically triggers a slight, upward twitch of her lips.

She looks back at where Newt and Thomas and Minho are sitting, sees the empty spaces behind them, and begins walking. “C’mon.”

And despite your hesitance that she can practically feel curling around her and persuading her to turn around, she ignores it valiantly and takes a seat. You’re always like this, always somewhat afraid of going out of your comfort zone but doing it anyway if you’re pushed. She’ll be that push for you; it makes her feel needed and she likes that. She takes a seat behind the three boys in the middle (coincidentally where Thomas sits) and spreads her legs out so you can’t pass and thus, forced to sit behind Newt.

Before you sit, you ask the boys-- Brenda can tell you’re nervous, you have a habit of pulling hair behind your ears, and your voice is a little high-pitched-- “Is it okay if we sit here with you guys?”

Minho’s the quickest to answer. “You can but Brenda can’t.”

Brenda immediately responds, “wow, someone’s salty today.”

Thomas cuts in, a dull stare at both of them. “Alright kids, break it up.”

And they both shut up, but Minho chucks a meaningful glance at Brenda. She scowls at him when Thomas isn’t paying attention.

“It’s okay,” Newt properly answers your question, and Brenda decides to tune out of whatever you say to him next. She shrugs her bag awkwardly off her shoulder, as she’s already in a sitting position, and gets her pen and notebook. She tunes out because she doesn’t want to be the hypocrite she knows she is. She wonders when she got used to looking at the back of the head in front of her, when she became so desensitised but always aware of the slow burn that caresses her jaw and from time to time, prompts it to clench. It’s possibly the weirdest want when all you really think about, and want, is for someone’s eyes to meet yours and for your eyes to hold them there, not the other way around.

On the contrary, Newt and you were probably way more forward than she could ever have the freedom to be.

She leans down and grabs her notebook, feeling uncharacteristically silly. Maybe she’s sick.

-

You notice when Newt gets his phone out somewhat near the end of the lecture but you’re still surprised when your own buzzes in your pocket. You grab it.

From: Newt  
To: [Y/N]  
for the record, i wouldn’t mind if you sat next to us/me more often :)

It takes you a while to respond.

From: [Y/N]  
To: Newt  
i’m not sure… would you use that as an opportunity to criticise my breakfast choices…?

And you bite your lip and hide a smile at the stifled little sound coming from Newt in front of you.

From: Newt  
To: [Y/N]  
never again! scout’s honour

From: [Y/N]  
To: Newt  
i don’t believe you

From: Newt  
To: [Y/N]  
y’know [Y/N] you’re so polite

From: [Y/N]  
To: Newt  
and then there’s this? :D

“-over.”

At the same time, both of your heads shoot up. Students have begun to shuffle around, the smooth sounds of paper and bags zipping up reverberating around the hall.

“Having fun there you two?” Minho smirks, and though you haven’t talked to him very much -- you exchange looks with Newt, and the two of you smile.“Yeah,” you say, the smile clear in your voice, teasing tone and all. Beside you, Brenda’s raised brows and happy eyes, and Minho falters slightly, his hope of flustering someone crushed. “Oh, ok.”

The five of you break out into the type of laughter you make with small exhales through the nose and the small smiles to match.

“Oh, hey [Y/N],” Thomas begins, slugging his backpack over his right shoulder and turning around to face you properly, “you’re coming on Saturday right?”

It’s so weird because even questions like that make your smile wider, and Newt wonders if it’s odd that he notices how happy you look, and a part of him asks why you look like that at such a simple question. Your train of thought goes that it’s really sweet Thomas asks you that, because to you it implies that he wouldn’t mind if you came and hung out with them all. It’s cool because it feels like you’re already a friend.

“Yeah, I’ll be there! Brenda won’t give me a choice anyway.”

The brunette snickers beside you, “please, you’d come over anytime just to see-”

And you make a grab for your bag on the floor, elbow sticking out in Brenda’s direction and effectively making an impact on her side, the other hand curling around your bag straps. “Oh, sorry, did I elbow you accidentally?” But you’re grinning.

Minho coughs and subtly nudges Newt, “Careful, she’s ruthless.” The nudge doesn’t escape your notice at all. And of course the next thing that comes up is:

“You guys don’t know anything. [Y/N]’s _wild_ -” you want to stop Brenda before she says or does anything that could make you uncomfortable (because she does those things a lot, you feel) but nothing could’ve interrupted the way she pauses and eyes Newt, full of purpose, and he looks directly back at her with a of a deadpan face, because he knows what she’s up to. Doesn’t help that he has the barest hint of a smirk trailing on his lips though, like he’s enjoying everything he’s seeing and hearing.

You push a few strands of hair behind your ear, unsure of how to react to what’s happening, until Brenda finishes with, “and she’s crazy competitive so good luck winning in Mario Kart on Saturday.”

“Stop advertising me,” you murmur, brows furrowed at your best friend. She shrugs, “Just stating the truth.”

“Sorry, I’m the best at Mario Kart and no kid’s going to take that title from me,” Minho interjects, crossing his arms and it’s like all of you aren’t standing in the middle of an empty lecture theatre. “We should probably get going,” Thomas voices the realisation you just had, leaving Minho’s statement cold and unacknowledged. “Looking forward to seeing you there on Saturday though, [Y/N],” he says, a friendly smile brightening his face, and it causes you to smile too. Brenda snickers Thomas’ unceremonious ignoring of Minho, and not before long the five of you are heading out.

“Keep on talking Minho,” you hear Brenda say to the asian, and something about everyone not qualifying as kids anymore. Minho’s answer of ‘you could’ve fooled me, you’re tiny’ has you smiling faintly. They could be cute together. Then again, you literally tend to think everyone could be cute together as long as they get along. You decide to trail behind, because you want to talk to Newt a bit more. Thomas, Brenda and Minho walk ahead with Brenda in the middle, and you think maybe Newt wants to talk to you a bit more as well, seeing as he’s also trailing behind. You fall into step with him, a question prepped and on your mind.

“So… are you going to Brenda’s house on Saturday as well?”

He looks at you, and once again the difference in heights strikes you as something to smile about. His answer makes you smile wider.

“Yeah, I have to see your Mario Kart skills for myself, after all.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?”

“You bet it is.”

A giddiness makes your steps lighter than usual. You feel like appreciating the scenery you pass by.

As you’re walking, Newt hesitates and doesn’t end up reaching for your hand.

He wants to, which surprises him, because it’s a new feeling. You never notice.

-

“Brenda, you have never been more wrong,” Minho comments, winning again for the fifth time.

“I take offense to that,” you say, frowning and attempting to conquer Bowser, a.k.a Brenda’s character of choice.

“Get out of my way you shroom,” Brenda mutters, releasing a banana peel on you and making you release an indignant noise as Toad spins wildly off the tracks, that has Newt stifling a laugh.

“Sorry love, but you doomed yourself from the get go,” the blond to your side snickers, referring to how you chose Rainbow Road courtesy of them allowing you to pick the first map of the rounds. Everyone came last, but you took the final place as 12th and apparently not only has that set you as a bad player in skill but for the fact it was the Rainbow Road map, you are now a bad player in spirit as well.

“Whatever Waluigi, no one likes you,” you reply, but your cheeks are warm because he called you _‘love’_. Doesn’t help that his shoulder is touching yours and you’ve been like this for quite a while now. He leans in, the brilliant lowness of his voice and that smooth British lilt on his words suddenly very close as he murmurs, “at least I’m not coming tenth.”

You try not to pay attention to him, thinking it was unfair because it was like he knew he was sabotaging you and your focus. “Stop trying to sabotage me with proximity,” you mutter without thinking, beneath your breath, and no one but Newt hears, and he’s not sure whether to let you know he heard or not… but he does anyway. “Sorry, am I distracting you?” You jolt, turning your head to face him and getting flustered at the smirk on those pink lips and the amused eyes looking back at you. It happens quickly, and you frown and shuffle away from him.

From the corner of his eyes, Minho states, sitting to the right of Newt, “you know you two aren’t the only ones in the room right?”

Brenda laughs delightedly above you two.

And you colour significantly and resist the urge to cover your face, while Newt plays it cool, sitting there like he hasn’t heard Minho, and you’re not sure how he can do that and you’re not sure how to react except by pressing the accelerate button harder on your wii controller.

“Brenda was probably being honest though, about [Y/N] apparent Mario Kart skills,” Thomas comments from the couch Newt and you are leaning on, and Brenda cackles, “at least Thomas is on my side--” but then Thomas says, “I mean Brenda’s probably the worst player out of all of us here so no wonder she struggled against even [Y/N].”

Brenda stays silent.

“Sick burn,” Minho says. You quickly glance at Brenda, who you find isn’t looking at the screen but with a pretend-shocked expression at Thomas, who is grinning teasingly at her. Without looking away from her, Thomas answers, “thanks for letting me know Min.”

And with ease, Minho grins, his character Yoshi boosting ahead on screen. “Always got your back bro.”

Yoshi passes the finish line and a ‘wahoo’ escapes the sound system, and you lean forward, having overcome Bowser a few moments ago and trying to at least come fifth. Newt wins second place and sits back smugly.

“What the hell,” you hear Brenda mumble. “Why am I always last?”  
Thomas, Minho and Newt answer in sync, “Don’t blame it on the game.”

You come in eighth, but grin despite yourself.

-

The upbeat, electronic tunes of the Mario Kart theme song has been replaying over and over again, to the point of a dull, listless hum your ears barely catch. The living room of Brenda’s house is much more cozy than you remember it to be, with the orange lighting casting tender shadows over everyone’s faces, mind the cool brightness from the stagnant television.

Mario Kart has been forgotten, swapped over for musings to each other with a chill atmosphere. It’s only around 10, but you’ve been playing that game for a few hours, taking breaks in between to get snacks and drinks. Empty wrappers and glasses of soft drink are scattered on the low, wide coffee table in front of you, and your shoulder is touching Newt’s again as you sit on the floor together and lean your backs against the front of the couch.

So, here you were.

Minho was in the kitchen getting another drink, and Brenda was sitting next to Thoma on the couch.

“It’s true though isn’t it, you guys were the captains at your high school?”

You listen as Thomas gives a small laugh, “That was ages ago.”

“You’re not that old, Thomas,” Brenda points out.

“Is it true?” you ask, not directing the question in anyone in particular but hoping for an answer.

“Thomas was captain,” Newt says, “I was vice.”

“That’s really amazing,” you tell him, and Thomas by extension, but Newt meets your eyes while you’re saying this, and remains silent at the earnest look you have. He feels selfish because he accidentally thought the sincerity in your voice was all for him. “I guess so,” Newt finally replies, and there’s something in the way he says it which quiets all of you. Like there’s something you’re missing maybe, because it feels like the quiet veiling you is because you think there’s something more to what he says that you don’t know about, but Thomas and Brenda seem silent because there’s a depth that they do know about.

To be honest, it doesn’t bother you that much that you’re a new addition of the group, because you’ve always had some trouble making friends instantly in the first place, unlike Brenda whose reach obviously stretched to other schools (you remember when she told you about Thomas in high school and his friends but you never realised just how close she was to them. Or maybe that closeness happened only recently, with the start of university. You’re not sure). Sometimes though, it feels like there’s something you don’t know that they do know, and you don’t really know what to think-- or if you’re just overthinking things.

“So…” Brenda begins again, and you know she’s got that signature teasing grin on her face, “is being called captain your kink?”

The two boys stay comically still at the question. You can tell Brenda’s enjoying the hell out of the situation, and she prods even further with, “would you like being called captain in bed?”

Thomas spares her a glance, a little smile playing on his lips. “I don’t actually know,” he admits. And he says something, softly, so you can’t hear it. When you turn your head and catch sight of the both of them, Brenda has this unreadable look on her face and you can’t tell what Thomas is thinking. Then, due to your movement your hand brushes against Newt’s and quickly your hand retracts and you face back forwards, hands safe in your lap. Newt doesn’t pay much attention to Brenda and Thomas, and is instead wondering how it’d go if he made the move to catch your hand in his. You two sit there together, shoulders touching. You think about how to intensify the feeling but subtly. So you curl your knees, causing you to lean a bit more into Newt. How can you convey that you want his arms around you? Would that be acceptable?

Unbeknownst to you, who is looking forward, he glances at the crown of your head, eyes soft., Then, slowly, Newt moves his arm so that it’s behind your shoulders and resting on the couch. It’s a typical move, he knows that, but he welcomes the fluttering feeling inside of him when you subtly move closer and rest your head against his chest. There’s a little worry he has that you’ll hear his heartbeat, but he doesn’t mull over it.

Behind you, Brenda has motioned for Thomas to get his phone out of his pocket, and he does so. Their legs are crossed over each other on the couch, spread out and each of them sitting on either ends, and Brenda sends Thomas a wicked grin and texts:

From: Brenda  
To: Thomas  
You can’t tell me you don’t ship them now, right?

From: Thomas  
To: Brenda  
Ok fine...  
You know I was only worried for Newt though

From: Brenda  
To: Thomas  
Yeah  
And that’s only natural, I get ya  
‘Tommy’ :p

From: Thomas  
To: Brenda  
…

Brenda looks over the two of you, and Thomas looks at Brenda, and considers sending her another message, when Minho walks in.

“I wouldn’t mind if you called _me_ captain in bed.”

“God, Minho,” Newt sighs. “A little late.”

Minho pauses, takes in the sight. “Technology is ruining us,” he says, shaking his head at Thomas and Brenda, and then he turns to you and Newt. “You guys are cute though, can I join?”

Brenda rolls her eyes, and you simply smile at Minho.

“Well? We gonna get the next game on or what?” Minho suggests, placing down the glass of water he had and snatching a controller off the table.

“I call the shots for Just Dance,” Brenda replies, waving her hand at Minho to get her a controller from the table, and he does, chucking it her way.

-

“What are the bets they’re gonna be hooking up by the end of the week?” Minho proposes after the two of you have gotten up, after you’ve exclaimed a want for tea (Newt: “At this time of the night?” [Y/N]: “I’ve learnt that it’s normal to be wild at parties.” Newt: “...”).

“Well, maybe, they’re pretty much already going out.” Brenda slips her wrist into the strap of the controller and clicks it in. Thomas stands up beside her, does the same. “You guys are so shady, you realise ‘the end of the week’ is in one day, right Minho? And they’ve only known each other for a week or so.”

The black-haired guy shrugs, “Things happen man.”

“Give it a few more days maybe,” Thomas suggests, “but ten bucks they’re gonna go on a date by the end of the week.”

Brenda snorts, “You’re just as bad as us.”

-

“-you don’t go to parties much?”

“Um,” you hum, scouring through the cupboards looking for the tea stash Brenda told you was supposed to be there. “They’re… not my kind of scene, I guess you could say. Some people party to release stress and stuff but that’s never worked for me.”

Newt takes it upon himself to fill the kettle with water, nodding as he listens to you. “So how do you go about relieving stress, other than writing?”

You notice his consideration and crack a grin at him as thanks. “Depends what kind of stress, low-key or high-key. I like to read and I like to run when it’s a nice day.”

Newt spots a little box in the corner of the cupboard, ‘T E A’ written in white across black painted wood. You’re too short though, and probably wouldn’t see it unless you were on your tiptoes. He steps your way and you look at him curiously, and then in understanding. You step to the side and he grabs the box for you, and as he passes it to you he asks, “and when you’re high-key stressed?”

You bite your lip in thought, and his eyes can’t help but flicker towards the action. “Talking to people helps me a lot… not sure if you can tell but I tend to be really vocal in the things I do, like when Brenda trolls me in Mario Kart-” Newt snickers here, “-or even when I’m home alone, I talk to myself when I study like… oh, the other day I made a good joke about something to do with society and culture.” You pause there and purse your lips, and he waits. And waits.

“Yes, I can see you have a fantastic sense of humour,” Newt teases, and you shoot him a fake glare. You take a green tea tea bag out of the box and snatch a cup off a nearby rack. The kettle’s boiling and now you have to wait.

“Obviously I do,” you muse soon after, “seeing as you decided to accompany me to the kitchen. Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He grants you a laugh at this one, and a grin that uncovers cheeky little canines which in turn has your own mouth curled upwards. You, in that cute sweater and denim shorts? Nah, he actually might not be able to get enough of you.

“How about you?” you ask, the kettle’s ping alerting you, and you reach over to pour water into your navy, white polka-dotted mug. You stand near the counter as you dip the tea bag in and out of the water, more out of habit than actual purpose.

Newt crosses his arms, and you really appreciate the sight of his own rolled up sleeves. God, he’s only wearing a simple dark grey dress shirt and long, loose black jeans but geez-

“I go for runs too, so maybe we should go together sometime.”

You blink, before grinning widely at him, “I’d love that.”

In the back of your mind, you wondered if that’d be ok, with his leg. Over time you’d noticed that there was a tiny limp in his gait, and you’re very hesitant in even thinking about asking Newt how it happened. Maybe an injury from ages ago, considering it doesn’t seem to be that pronounced? A medical condition maybe?

“‘Might outrun you though, considering.” He makes a pointed glance at your legs, and it takes a moment before you understand what he’s implying. Frowning, you shake your head, “C’mon I’m not that short. Even if you’re tall, I could still beat you.”

He shrugs, a kind of glint in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to see, huh?”

You raise your brows at him challengingly, “Yeah, I guess we do.” And after a pause, you slowly add, “So… how about high-key stress?”

Newt looks away for a moment, to the side.

“Well, exercise still helps, but it was only after becoming vice that I started running again, it took some time,” Newt murmurs, and though you’re a bit confused, you let him speak. “I’m not really used to talking to people when I’m… stressed,” the blond confesses, “but I’ve come to realise that it can be helpful, yeah.”

You nod, having looked down at the mug, and then back at him.

“If…” you begin, “If you want… I don’t mind being there if you ever want to talk.”

Newt catches your gaze, and you’re glad you finished that sentence because otherwise you would’ve stumbled over your words. His eyes are hard to read but you feel their intensity. Like the other day, when he was apologising about the dare.

He pushes himself off the counter. “Even if I criticise your breakfast choices?”

You break the eye contact first, placing your tea back on the counter next to you, looping a finger around the tea string but holding it there. “[Y/N]?” Newt asks softly, and it’s hard to breathe when he puts his hand on the bench, to the side of your hip. You’re intoxicated by the nearness.

“Even if,” you mumble, unsure if you’re talking properly or not, if he even hears you. Tilting your head upwards to look at him is a mistake and he says something but you’re fixated on the movement of his lips. Imagine them, your brain whispers, imagine them on yours, imagine your fingers tangled in his hair, slow, hot breathing against each other. Wait, who’s the one leaning in, you or Newt?

Newt falls completely silent the moment he feels a ticklish, featherlight touch on the side of his jaw, trailing tenderly, almost admiringly. He opens his mouth to question the action, but your fingertips prompt a quick, breathless inhale when they drag towards the back of his neck, a pleasant shock spiking the skin there, and the words are lost. Your head is tilting up, your eyes are hooded.

Newt stares down at you, mouth slightly parted. His head is tilted as well, to accommodate.

Awareness.

Your hand freezes and you scramble back (not that you can get very far), luckily missing your tea by an inch but slamming your back harshly against the edge of the counter.

Oh, god.

“Um,” your voice sounds broken, but you try to make do with what you have. For christ’ sake, he said _‘thank you’_ but you were too hormone-filled to acknowledge it. But you have to acknowledge it. So you say, “n-no problem.”

“You,” his voice is deliciously low, “were going to kiss me.”

It’s your turn to stare at him, but your stare is more akin to a deer caught in a headlight. “I wasn’t.”

You grab your mug, shielding your lips with the ironically warm porcelain. “[Y/N]-- you…”

You look at him. And look away. And look back, because he has the nerve to be _laughing_.

“Newt-” you say helplessly, unsure of absolutely everything because even your body has betrayed you by now.

“[Y/N],” he continues laughing, and he looks so happy. “Can you look at me?”

“I am!” you exclaim, extremely confused and slightly dazed.

He smiles down at you, and his smile is so, so brilliant. In that instant he realises something important. You’re still holding the mug to your lips, but now you’re eying him hesitantly, due to his request. His mouth is tingling, he didn’t want you to stop and now he’s here, not kissing you because he doesn’t want to do anything wrong. But his mind flickers to your fingers, if you’d make use of them to caress the nape of his neck when you’d kiss, knowing it’d make him curl into you more, make him shiver against you. Then to your mouth, and he wonders if he’d hear your voice trickle out against him, a charming little moan combined with the honest attempt to catch your breath.

You’re a tease and he’s already bloody caught up in you.

So he has to do something, anything-

“Are you free next weekend?” he asks.

(D-do you always bite your lip when you’re thinking or something? _Because it’s killing him_.)

Humble and shy, you give a small nod, and to him, that’s much more than satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so don't leave me to sleep all alone  
> may we stay lost on our way home
> 
> i'd like to believe in all the possibilities


End file.
